‘Stop! You’re hurting her.’
‘It must come out. I’ve almost got it.’ In another moment, Aunt Rowan clasped her hand in a fist. She opened her fingers to reveal a lead slug slick with dark blood.
‘My fire will cauterise her wound.’ Clio took her aunt’s place, but Helena pulled her back.
‘Wait, let me flush it first. Aunt Rowan, will you draw out any fragments?’
The two worked together, Helena sending a carefully controlled jet of water into the wound as Aunt Rowan sought any part of the bullet or particles of her clothing that might remain and ensured they were swept away. Cynthia moaned, but didn’t thrash as she had before.
Aunt Rowan nodded at Helena, who reluctantly stepped back to let Clio use her witchfire to stop the bleeding. Ellie held Helena’s hand, silent tears streaming down her cheeks.
Clio’s brow drew down in concentration, her eyes closed, as she sought out the open vessels that needed to be sealed.
Cynthia was still. Too still. Perhaps her body was exhausted, or maybe…
She will be well. She must recover. I cannot live in this world without her.
Wiping perspiration from her forehead, Clio stepped back and looked at Ellie.
‘Can you see her aura?’
Cynthia was far too pale, her mahogany hair unnaturally dark against her cheeks. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths.
Ellie’s bottom lip trembled. ‘It’s still fading. Aunt Rowan, what else can we do?’
Aunt Rowan blew out a heavy sigh. ‘Blood magic. It’s our best chance.’
Without thought, Helena pulled Cynthia into her arms. ‘Cast the spell.’ Wrapping herself around Cynthia like a human shield, she pulled her body tight to her own, willing her warmth to seep into Cynthia’s skin.
‘It requires a willing sacrifice.’
Helena glared at her aunt. ‘She has my sacrifice. Take my blood.’
Aunt Rowan shook her head. ‘I won’t. I know what your mother did to you, Helena. I won’t do the same.’
Angry tears welled. ‘This isn’t the same! I willingly give her my blood.’
Hamlet, who had followed the women into the shower room, padded over to Helena, his golden eyes fathomless. Without warning, he sank his teeth into her arm deep enough for her to cry out. Pulling away, blood welled.
‘Thank you!’
Hamlet whined, bumping his head against her shoulder.
Helena wrapped her arm over Cynthia’s chest, her blood sinking into the still open wound.
Ancient words poured from Helena like an ageless spring as water rose around them, holding Helena and Cynthia in the curl of a flowing wave.
‘Don’t leave me, Cynthia. Our souls are entwined. We are fated for each other. I need you. I love you. Please, stay.’
Cynthia’s skin warmed like sunlight over still pools. Her chest rose in a breath. Helena watched in awe as she began to glow, then blaze like a lantern as the wound knitted itself together. Every vein in her body shone through her skin as the magic grew in power. When the last smudge of blood absorbed into the wound, it sealed itself, her smooth skin unmarred save a crescent moon in hawthorn-berry red.
Cynthia’s eyes fluttered open and the wave broke around them in a spray of mist, covering her coven like dew drops.
Helena finally understood what it meant to drown in someone’s gaze. She could sink into Cynthia’s depths for eternity.
‘Helena.’
She pressed her mouth against Cynthia’s lips, tasting hope and love and Cynthia’s honeyed flavour. ‘I love you, Cyn. So much and forever. Don’t you ever do this again!’
